


50 Shades of Saint (WTF BDSM Edition)

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Series: You're the Boss, Boss [3]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Bi-Curiosity, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Character, Dark Comedy, Dominatrix, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Explicit Language, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gay For You, M/M, Old Friends, POV First Person, Past Relationship(s), You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7116058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny Gat's POV - </p><p>I can do pain, I can do torture, I can deal a good ass-beating if circumstances allowed light foreplay – I draw the line at motherfucking spine-sized buttplugs and leather harnesses. </p><p>“Pay the piper as the saying goes,” Kinzie waits for me to put on the studded black collar, a black rubber unitard and ball-gag; she shrugs at my gimace, “Its the only way we're going to save the Boss.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	50 Shades of Saint (WTF BDSM Edition)

**Author's Note:**

> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE. 
> 
> Your character is your own.  
> Your thoughts are your own. 
> 
> Have fun.

I can do pain, I can do torture, I can deal a good ass-beating if circumstances allowed light foreplay – I draw the line at motherfucking spine-sized buttplugs and leather harnesses. 

“Pay the piper as the saying goes,” Kinzie waits for me to put on the studded black collar, a black rubber unitard and ball-gag; she shrugs at my grimace, “Its the only way we're going to save the Boss.” 

Faster than I blink, I throw the sorry attempts of a proper torture suit to the floor and throw a Molotov on top for good measure, she blinks and readjusts her glasses. 

My kind is a nice Iron Maiden that I'm not wearing, and asking the wearer questions while tightening the lid. 

“Fuck. That,” I hiss, emphasizing with a hard stomp on the sizzling blaze of the 'Bottom's Uniform', “Shit.” 

Vanilla is a flavor, not my favorite kind of sex, but adding leather, chains and missile-dildos sounds more like my kind of Friday night in the alley with a cigarette in hand and a couple of Ronin, Syndicate and S.T.A.G. soldiers, preferably all at the same time. 

“I knew you'd say that, Johnny,” thank my motherfuckin lucky stars she knows this ain't a good look for me, it's gotta match the shades and hair – so she hands me a bundle of glowing code, “Here's your alternate wardrobe.” 

Lines of code run up my arms, through my clothes, and Bibbity-Bobbity-motherfuckin-Boo! 

I'm a Grey-cliché with a Christian-leather fetish. 

“The code sticks, so try not to take off too many clothes or you'll expose your arsenal,” maybe Kinzie's got it out for me, the code envelopes me and it's leather, studded and black, but my new kicks ain't all that bad, I actually kinda dig it; she waves her hand over my new suit's shoulder and a golden Ronin dragon appears, she explains, “Shogo was a regular, too. A raging Bottom-regular, I had him a few times on the end of my peg.”

Interesting, really interesting. 

Who knew Shogo Akuji wasn't only a bitch of the Akuji Ronin, but in real life too? 

You can't squeeze a man outta a boy unless the man was already there Inside the boy, such philosophical fortune-cookie bullshit. 

“Arsenal?” the leather moto-trench reaches down halfway to my thighs and the black business button-up is a little tight around the shoulders, so I pluck open two buttons, the black leather pants don't hug too much but it sure as hell pronounces my package – I ask, “Wasn't that the whole idea?” 

The idle chit-chat's nice, but it prolongs the inevitable when I have to go find the Boss and get us outta this hellhole. 

“We need to be discreet or the Zin watchdogs will come down on this place like the Vice Kings on a sting,” Kinzie answers, maybe because she's having a nostalgia-trip, she deadpans to me, “Besides, wasn't it You that freaked out our Boss by saying you were packing eight-inches?” 

The government of the U-S-motherfucking-A, Illuminati assholes in pressed suits before the Saints came to piss on their parade – we believe in the all-ruling God of Death. Apparently, Kinsey's Area-51 Project was shelved for this very reason. 

“Anything else private that you don't know about? I lied actually,” I give a slight head shake, her eyes widen from the revelation of my tiny fib, “I didn't tell Boss that it was eight-inches Flaccid.” 

Her face goes red, and for the first time since we met Kinzie giggles, Joke received. 

“The Boss should be here, Johnny,” Kinzie points to the radar just to my lower right leg, she then points to the left inner pocket of my leather coat, she asks, “You read those popular books I gave you detailing the BDSM lifestyle?” 

I reach in and I'll be damned, there's a fucking Bible in here, I yank it out and read the title '50 Tints of Shade' – I swear I burned this fuckin thing for Good back on the Broken Shillelagh; I throw the hopefully-last copy to the nearest trashcan and pull out the other, the sequel, the next sequel and the last volume, “You gotta be kidding me, its fancy cigarette paper.” 

“Good,” Kinzie then kicks over the trashcan as savagely as a rodeo Shetland, she says, “Sometimes I wonder why all five were so popular back on Earth. Celibate boredom, I guess.” 

“Making your girl eat only a diet of Freckle Bitch's is one thing-” rolling my first smoke in the Broken Shillelagh was interesting to say the least after seeing 'felch' and 'dirty Sanchez' written in the same sentence, I say, “-Shaving her head, lobotomizing her and turning her into a fuck-toy midget carnie is-” 

Kinzie waves her hands over her head.

“Eew! Quit it with your photographic memory,” her high-pitched squeal gains some attention from a group standing offside, one scampers away through the doors, I keep quiet hoping that the gimp's coming back with reinforcements, I need the exercise after all these years swimming in pink custard, “The job is simple: discretion, dedication and whatever you do: Don't dominate the President.” 

I guess Kinzie got the memo early from Stilwater Bestseller's List. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I take a few steps toward the door and stop short because 1. Suspicion, 2. Terrible Music, 3. Lack of Simulated Security, “No blood, no bullets, no undermining the Boss' authoritah. Loud and clear.” 

“Ironic, isn't it?” I ask, Kinzie looks through the open double doors and peers alongside the open room, “Not a single soulless Zin on the radar.” 

“The Zin deemed BDSM 'too barbaric', that coming from a tyrant who blew a planet into gravel is saying something,” she explains quickly, pointing me out to the head of the cock, “Ready?” 

I see some chubby dickhead in a throne of dildos, I ask, “Ain't you comin?” 

“They celebrate the coming of a VIP customer with selfies and a line of ass-kissing here,” as soon as she elaborates, a line of a dozen gimps kneel beneath her and literally pull out their phones, one at a time kissing her promptly on the ass, each calling her 'Mistress Kinzie', “See?” 

Guess she has more balls than I give her credit for. 

“Eh, suit yourself, 'Mistress Kinky Kinzie',” there's no time to lose...well, maybe I can burn a few seconds taking it all in, “Wow...” 

Leather, red carpets, royal red settees, cages – I'm buying this place out and living in it when this mission is over. 

“I can sure get used to this,” I say to myself, remembering the Boss, I make my way down the middle of the room and stop before the chubby gimp, “Headman, I-” 

“Jyunichi, what a pleasant surprise. And you've grown out your hair, I see,” his voice is a little muffled and high-pitched, his tone makes my ears itch, “We were not expecting you in the least. Where's your cute little Shogo?” 

What...the...Fuck? 

“He was being a bad boy, so I punished the little shit,” my answer is as savory as the memory, “A lesson he won't be forgetting soon.” 

“Ah! Such spirit! Fitting for our most dominating customer...” his reaction is priceless, “And as always requested, we have some fresh meat needing a guiding hand.” 

'Fresh meat'? 

Boss? 

Christ, Jyunichi, you sick bastard, convenient knowing you. I always suspected, but Never expected my expectations to be Met. 

“O-kay,” I reply, glancing at my lower right for the telltale waypoint. 

“Please,” his overly-dry enthusiastic tone makes me want to shove my four-foot flopping bat down his throat, “Enjoy your stay to your heart's content.” 

Business is, business does; I conclude our meeting with a half-smiled, “Enjoy your...dick-chair.” 

Apparently, telling by the radar blinking several possible locations of the Boss, this has gone from mildly uncomfortable to motherfucking Regretful. 

Don't you worry, Boss, Johnny Gat's on the 'Case of the Missing President.' 

Eesh, where ever you are, I hope you're laughing, because everyone in this club's gonna die a horrible death.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, of course there will be Various situations regarding your character, but this is how I do it now because it's easier:  
> First comment gets to choose the Gender and Sexuality (go crazy with this one) of the next chapter. 
> 
> Of course every Gender & Sexuality will be written with this Scinario.


End file.
